


Solacing the Fallen Crow

by Malignant_Thorn



Category: Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Akechi Goro Redemption, Comfort, Confessions, Friendship, Gen, Persona 4 Spoilers, Persona 5 Spoilers, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malignant_Thorn/pseuds/Malignant_Thorn
Summary: It is December 16th, 2016 when the Phantom Thieves broadcast their calling card to Shido. Tohru Adachi is now thirty-two and out of prison, watching TV as the calling card interrupts his station. Piqued by a sense of déjà vu to the Investigation Team when the leader's young face is nearly exposed, Adachi goes outside his apartment for a smoke when he finds a wounded, broken Goro Akechi collapsed in the middle of the street. Recognizing him as the famous, young ace detective, Adachi takes him to his room to avoid garnering any unwanted attention.





	Solacing the Fallen Crow

**Author's Note:**

> adachi is less of an asshole
> 
> but he still briefly laughs at akechi's daddy issues

“So, _those_ are the Phantom Thieves that are spreadin’ havoc all over Japan! Lucky them, all that fun that I’m no longer a part of.”

December 16th, 2016. That was the night that the arguably already official prime minister of Japan, Masayoshi Shido, received a special calling card that happened to be broadcasted and projected throughout the entire eastern country. Not only did this form of warning and exposure differentiate from a standard ransom note crafted by the team’s artist, but all of Japan caught a glimpse of each member’s silhouettes, the leader’s face nearly being visible if it wasn’t for his mask.

Tohru Adachi was now thirty-two, living solemnly in his apartment in Inaba. It had been quite a bit of time since the serial killer was released from prison, as both him and everyone else who had his case realized the only evidence existent was his own confession. Frankly, he was apathetic of either direction his life would take. Either way, through his former superior pulling some strings on his behalf, Adachi was back in the police force under Dojima, now serving as his secretary. Though his appearance remained relatively stagnant over the years, save for cleaner hair and some stubble, his overall misanthropic personality had been tamed by his growing dispassion and cynicism.

It was still no doubt that Adachi would find himself ruffled upon seeing up close the curly-haired boy serving as the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves on his television.

“A _kid_? Man, I’m having some serious déjà vu right now… You mean to tell me a group of wide-eyed _teenagers_ were the ones sticking their noses in adult matters?!” his jaw tightened, losing his composure and yelling for the first time in a while as if there was somebody else in the dull room to grant him an answer. Of course, he knew that wasn’t the case, as he much preferred to be alone.

The self-named Investigation Team that had ruined his game of murder were also composed a group of teenagers. If it wasn’t for the “golden boy” Yu Narukami’s arrival to the quiet rural town, Adachi could have gotten away with much more sins to quell his boredom.

But Adachi grit his teeth, his grey eyes locked coldly on the young boy’s projected on his screen, subtly wishing he could just reach in as he used to and strangle the life out of him. Certainly angered, the older man was inwardly relieved that he wasn’t still committing his murders and in Tokyo, what with a group like the Phantom Thieves who could easily pull some other-worldly, “brainwashing shit” he didn’t comprehend and “steal his heart”. After all, twenty-seven-year-old Adachi wouldn’t be an outlier grouped together with the horrible people the group targeted, such as a sexual predator like Suguru Kamoshida, or Ichiryusai Madarame tactically covering up his artistic fraudulence.

“…I wonder what my palace’d be,” Adachi humored the thought, recalling something about each of the Thieves’ targets having a place similar to a dungeon from the Midnight Channel based on their distorted view of the world, “A playground, perhaps? Name: Tohru Adachi. Destination: Inaba. Distortion: Playground, haha!”

His exuberant cackles quickly subdued into a bitter, dry laugh at his own poor quip. He was still pissed off, seeing the news. The churlish ex-detective took out a lighter and a cigarette from his blazer’s jetted pocket, abiding by his apartment’s no smoking policy and making his way down the complex to head outside for a prolonged drag or three.

It was snowing harshly outside, Adachi immediately regretting not wearing something heavier or at least wrapping a scarf around his delicate neck. If it wasn’t for such brisk weather punishing his light attire, Adachi would have easily reminisced the fog from five years ago that made the same atmosphere a lot uglier and people a lot weaker. He thoroughly examined the area around, grateful that there was nobody around to bother him or point him out as the serial killer from those same number of years back. Granted, with no evidence to officially incriminate him, the attention swiftly faded from public interest, a discovery he was also satisfied with upon his release.

He assumed there was nobody around at least. Although out of his earshot or vision, a young boy was dragging himself forward, but was ultimately directionless in where he wanted to end up. He would be a pretty young man, if it wasn’t for his light brown locks matted with blood, his crimson eyes barely open due to his growing fatigue, and fancy suit under his usual tan peacoat dirtied and nearly torn to shreds.

Goro Akechi’s façade as a soft, charismatic boy was permanently dropped after he broke down during his fight against the Phantom Thieves with his true persona, Loki. Paralleling his new inability change back into his princely Crow attire, there was no way Akechi could simply put on the same cordial image again. He recognized during the fight that he bit the hand that fed him, turning against the group of kids his own age that had desperately tried to lend a hand after learning of his past and manipulation under the father whose heart they were trying to reform. Even after his defeat, he wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ just swallow his pride and make amends with the group. After he was separated from the team and placed alone with his cognitive self, he took out Shido’s meek perspective of him easily. However, he knew shortly afterwards that if he remained alive, he had to abandon Tokyo and run as far away as he could, no matter the lack of destination. Hence, a bloody, low-profile Akechi limping aimlessly and painfully through the languid town of Inaba.

Well, he _tried_ to remain low-profile. Beginning to succumb to the cold stings of snow entering the exposed lacerations across his body, Akechi buckled his knee and tried to stifle an agonic cry.

“S-Shit…!” Akechi bit the bottom of his lip and sucked it in, nose and sclera of his eyes a light red from both a forming cold and the tears from having to frequently seize his steps forward due to his writhing. The raspy scream luckily wasn’t enough to shake the whole street’s attention to him, but Adachi quickly shot a glare over in the direction the voice currently disembodied to him came from.

After a long drag, Adachi cocked his head back and squinted at the boy begrudgingly struggling to press forward. For some reason, the kid seemed awfully familiar. Apathetic, the man continued to mockingly scrutinize the strange young man who made a task as simple as crossing a street to his side seem like a Herculean feat.

And then Akechi fell to his knees in the middle of the street, the cold making it easy for Adachi to spot the visuality of the pained man’s rapid breaths from afar.

Immediately he threw away his cigarette and withdrew his lighter back into his inner pocket. Tohru Adachi was far from a saint, being the serial killer that terrorized Inaba’s tranquility half a decade back, but his mended morality enticed him to run after the man and at least let him collapse on the other side’s sidewalk. He wasn’t exactly what one would call “in shape”, but it wasn’t too taxing to run a few feet forward and the same distance back with a body over the shoulders. Akechi respired uncomfortably loudly next to Adachi’s ear, breathily pleading the man to stop assisting him. The older man obliged in a literal sense, throwing him on the bench next to his apartment as soon as the two crossed the lane.

“N-Not like that… a-asshole…!” Akechi sucked in the air between his teeth as his back sore from being lobbed into the hard, cold metal of the bench, sinking back into the seat.

Adachi spat on the poor kid, brows furrowed in irritation, “Hey, are you too out of it to remember who _saved_ ya, brat? Y’know, given that you’re all mauled up and everything, I could effortlessly throw you back out into the street. Would you like that?” he spoke in the same raspy, honeyed tone as usual, though his sinister threats holding just as much weight as always.

Akechi’s chest steadied in the rapid pounding that had shook his whole body, breathing beginning to level. He was about to berate the older man’s chides, but his head hung low with exhaustion. He had no more retorts or comebacks, no will nor energy to argue at all.

Adachi stood in front of him, his rounding and mouth agape when he recognized the man even past his rugged, nearly gory state, “…W-Wait a sec, you’re that ace detective kid, aren’t you?! Goro Akechi… right? The “second coming of the detective prince”, heheh!”

The same venom as before when he fought the Phantom Thieves began to course through his veins, “Ace… _detective_?” he growled in a harsh voice under his breath. His curiosity piqued, looking up into the eyes of the man that dared to patronize him. Suddenly, he felt far more justified in his anger when he recognized that the man before him was the dispirited serial killer of Inaba back in 2012. The second-to-last person he wished to be at the mercy at was _him_ , first, of course, being Shido or one of his subordinates. Akechi contorted his face with as much hate as he could, “A-And you’re… that scumbag adult, Tohru Adachi! Get… Get the hell away…!”

Adachi gave a curt chuckle at the somewhat childish insult, “Really? ‘Scumbag adult’ is kinda lowballing it, don’tcha think? Heheh… hahaha!”

Akechi didn’t bother to respond. Whether the young boy was too busy poking at and discovering new gashes and lacerations across his body or just being a petty kid and giving Adachi the silent treatment, the receiver of his cold shoulder didn’t care much more about that.

The older man began to realize that the people on the boulevard were looking his direction, fearing that they may have begun to recognize Akechi themselves as the mesmerizing ace detective they fawned over on TV. It was a silly fear, sure, but understandable given Adachi’s longing for a quiet life.

“ _Tch_ ,” Adachi no longer wore his plastered, goofy expression. He looked down at Akechi and scooped his arm around his bloody back, helping him to his feet, “…You’re gonna freeze your ass off here if you keep wandering around like this. Come up to my apartment for a little while. I don’t think either of us want to garner attention right now, what with an ex-serial killer and a mutilated famous detective discoursing in public eye.”

“N-No!” Akechi whimpered, and not just because Adachi’s cold hand accidentally grazed one of the many bleeding slits on his flesh. He felt disgusting enough, having turned his back on the Phantom Thieves after gaining rather complicated feelings towards its leader. Was God humoring his guilt by placing his health at the mercy of a serial killer?

 _Joker._ Akechi cried out in his thoughts desperately to the younger boy who had persisted to form a bond with him the most. Akechi was unsure of his sexuality and whether or not these “complicated feelings” were in fact romantic; keeping a false public image and forming even falsified friendships were difficult enough, so the young man never even had time to consider a relationship.

And then there was Adachi, the polar opposite and arguably better of the two. Akechi _loathed_ the realizations that pulsed through his head every second he was with the man. Adachi was honest; he was _too_ honest. The only thing he ever had to cover up were his crimes, naturally so he could continue carrying them out longer. While the older police detective had merely killed two people in the heat of the moment during 2012, Akechi had _planned_ and carried out over a hundred murders over the course of nearly three. If the killer of newscaster Mayumi Yamano and third-year Saki Konishi made Adachi a monster, who knows what Akechi would be if the nightmare-fuel murders of Wakaba Isshiki, Kunikazu Okumura, the Minister of Transportation, and dozens of innocent lives came into light accredited to his name. If expanding beyond murders, Akechi couldn’t even fathom how many families and friends close to his victims were torn apart by what he’d done, his former teammate Futaba Sakura and the manifestation of her palace being enough to bring the idea to surface in his head.

These thoughts plagued the young man, and combined with his blurring vision, Akechi never even realized that he was seated in a futon in the room of the other man that saved him from being potentially run over.

“W-Wha…? What the hell?” Akechi shuttered when he realized the new surroundings. It was quiet, and definitely warmer and thus more comfortable than the raw weather he was traversing through. However, he still remained restless and cautious due to his resent towards being saved and the very man who saved him.

“Jeez, stick up your ass too or something?” Adachi ran one hand’s fingers through his hair, entering the room with a cup of black coffee in the other. He tried to hand Akechi the mug, and when he refused, he simply placed it on the end table next to him. Adachi threw off his blazer and loosened his tie, sitting himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of Akechi.

The sickly detective sneezed, his whole body twitching and stiffening. Annoyed by Adachi’s presence and the awkward silence, Akechi tried to be hostile before pathetically choking up and coughing blood unintentionally on Adachi’s left pant leg.

“Ugh, what the fuck?!” Adachi shot back and nearly fell off the table. He thought to retrieve paper towels to wipe the specs of lifeblood, but now he was fully enveloped in his curiosity of what horrific happening the usually photogenic and well-postured young man was involved with. “…I hope you realize,” the older man, having once been a police detective himself, leaned forward and began to interrogate Akechi, “I let you in my home while I much preferred to be left alone or watch you get hit by some clown who just got their license. The least you can do is explain what the hell happened, _ace detective_. I need a good story to sleep at night thinking about every once in a while!”

It was the second time Adachi had called him an ace detective or something of the sort. Ace detective was the last thing he wanted to be referred as. Akechi clutched his full, bloodied locks of hair and parted his lips to a pained scream, this time invoked by the guilt that had finally overcome him.

A bubble of blood grossly popped and coated his lips as he began to speak, “I… caused the mental shutdowns, a-and I tried to kill my friends—!” his voice dissolved into a gruff hack from the bottom of his lungs before he could finish his sentence.

Adachi awaited the rest of his answer, though impatiently due to his shock, and therefore not for long before Akechi could regain control over his voice, “…You’re shitting me, kid! You mean to tell me that innocent Goro- _kun_ was a murderer?” the man leaned back slightly with a sneer, “I may not be a detective anymore, but I still work in the force as a secretary thanks to a few pulled strings! All it takes is a single confession like that to put yourself in the police’s interest for a case as unsolvable as those mental shutdowns… Even the first ‘detective prince’ who caught me red-handed was more calculative and alert than _this_!” The man cruelly spread his arm and beheld Akechi, laughing manically at the sudden twist and reaching in to mess with Akechi's hair with his other arm's hand. 

That was the third time, and one time too many. Once the first set of teardrops broke free between his legs onto the specs of blood that escaped his lips prior, the rest began to trickle down into an unbroken stream. He struggled to keep his voice steady, but couldn’t help but to bawl, “I… I’m not an ace detective…! I’m nothing more than a fraud who staged every investigation I was a part of just to try and get people’s acceptance,” Akechi shot his head up and grabbed both hands around Adachi's wrist to throw it off his hair, expression mixed between pure guilt and disdain, “I betrayed the Phantom Thieves, the ones who lent out to reach my hand, and allowed myself to be manipulated under Shido just because of some hope he’d care for me as a father should!”

Adachi was too shocked and now too matured to kick the young boy when he was already _far_ down. The way Akechi blatantly confessed his sins resembled the way all of the Phantom Thieves’ targets eventually broke down and admitted their offenses. He wondered if even a man as composed and prideful as Shido would be reduced to the same shameful, crying mess the young boy before him was displaying after the Phantom Thieves pull their stunts.

“So, all of that ‘ace detective’ and ‘detective prince’ business was nothing short of a ruse meant to mask a shitty kid with daddy issues? And ‘daddy’ is the shithead winning the ballots for prime minister?!” Adachi spat callously, immediately regretting his words and covering his mouth out of pity upon seeing Akechi’s eyes well up more from his comment.

Truly, the kid was annoying to Adachi. His interaction between himself and Akechi greatly resembled his with another angsty youth groomed under selfish motives, Sho Minazuki. In a sense, Adachi had a feeling he would have disliked Akechi a lot _more_ than Sho if he wasn’t already beaten due to the complicated headaches he’d get trying to handle someone who wasn’t totally one-dimensional.

Adachi heaved a sigh, quickly grabbing his blazer to retrieve his lighter and pack of cigarettes. He no longer regarded the trivial no smoking policy of his apartment, deciding to indulge in what he wanted to do as a mental reward for saving the broken young man. After another breath of fresh nicotine, Adachi crossed an ankle over his knee and glimpsed down at the sobbing boy in front of him. He remembered calling Sho out for his poor reasoning behind his misanthropy—“You think the whole world hates you just because someone didn’t treat you right? You’re nothing but a little kid throwing a tantrum.”—a quote that Adachi could very easily apply to Akechi from what he confessed, but it seemed the young man’s confession already gave him a hint that he was well beyond remorseful. Besides, what little pride was there left to crush in a camera-ready star reduced to a blubbering mess?

Instead, Adachi remained silent until the boy stifled his sniveling. Once his bawls were reduced to low sniffles and whimpers, the older man decided to speak up, “…So, you done?”

Akechi mustered his voice, “…You could’ve l-left the room if you were so pissed.”

The tension in Adachi loosened, the man snickering laxly at Akechi’s response, “And where to? There’s only a bathroom and a bedroom in this shitty ol’ place, and only the bathroom has a door,” he dropped his voice and took on a more ominous tone, cocking an eyebrow beratingly, “Plus, given your new criminal record—”

“Leave, dammit!” Akechi barked, slamming his fist against the coffee table hard, flinching back after bruising his already bloodstained hand.

Adachi looked down at the boy’s bare hands, his black gloves resting beside him. He smirked, “…You’re all talk if your hands got more damaged than this feeble table. This is my apartment, kid. If you wanna get away from ‘scumbag adult’ Tohru, you can take your leave and go sleep in the middle of the street again, you two-bit detective.”

“Two-bit…” Akechi balled his hands into fists in his lap, face reddening and his body beginning to tremble again. _Great_ , Adachi thought to himself, hoping he didn’t strike a nerve and cause the boy to wail piteously again.

“Alright,” Adachi sat up firmly before what he worried of would occur. He was done babysitting a coward. This time, the owner of the apartment room cleared his throat and spoke with ingenuity, “You feel _really shitty_ for what all you confessed, and God knows what else you’re keeping quiet of? Then quit moping around and swallow the pride and annoying angst that led you to this position in the first place. You’re a third-year, aren’t you? Seventeen, eighteen? You have the rest of your life ahead, but if you keep whining instead of taking initiative, all that time will slip away and you’ll really be in some hot shit. You’ll become the ‘shitty’, ‘lonely’, whatever-other-negative-adjective adult that you’re talking to right now if you don’t act fast.”

Although in vastly different dispositions, both Akechi’s and his former perspective of fate were indistinguishable. In the back of his head, Adachi felt like the reasoning behind his uncharacteristic motivation was because Akechi at that moment reminded him of himself, perhaps even more so than Sho. Adachi wanted to snap the poor kid back to his senses until it was too late for him to change.

The former ace detective stared down at the hands which had taken so many lives and attempted his friends’. He clutched his head with both and panted, “I… I want to. I want to atone for what I’ve done and make amends with the ones who tried to end my loneliness, even if I have to work arduously to earn their trust! But…” Akechi looked into Adachi’s eyes without hostility for the first time during their encounter, “My fath—n-no, Masayoshi Shido…! Who knows what would happen if all fails and that bastard finds out I’m alive?!”

Adachi hated excuses, but this time Akechi’s was relatively understandable. A man as powerful enough to constantly administer society in his favor and as vile as the Phantom Thieves’ calling card presented his true nature to be, he could swiftly eliminate a solo, distracted Akechi. Moments of silence passed until Adachi pieced together an idea, “…That group of kids just on TV a few moments ago sent Shido another one of those ‘calling cards’ tonight—”

Interrupting Adachi, Akechi’s eyes widened, and his body shot up in his seat, “The calling card?!” He cast his head low and muttered to himself something that Adachi couldn’t hear nor care enough to pry into. If Akechi’s eyes weren’t dried from all of his tears, tears of joy would have welled up as he smiled warmly to himself and whispered, “Joker… So, all of you made it.”

“…If going by the pattern found in the previous targets, Shido will confess in a day or two from now after that group do their little psychokinesis in his head, or whatever the hell they do. You can do the same, right?” Adachi continued, inquiring Akechi of his own abilities.

Buzzing vibrated in Akechi’s pocket, almost answering Adachi’s question itself. Though running deliriously for days, Akechi’s phone with the Metaverse navigator application that allowed him to commit those crimes in the first place were one of the few things he carried after he abandoned all else in Shido’s palace. Akechi tried to quirk his lips into a faint smirk as he caught on to Adachi’s words, “Y-Yeah, the Metaverse… As soon as I returned to reality, I wouldn’t stop running. No destination, just as far as I could, which is why I’m here in Inaba.”

Adachi crossed his arms and cocked his head to the left, gesturing to the bedroom behind him, “What you need to haul your ass and do is simple. Go clean yourself and your clothes of all that gross blood and grime, and rest here tonight.”

“Hmph,” Akechi flipped his shaggy, chestnut-colored mane boldly, ignoring the tiny specs of blood which flaked onto the carpet from doing so, “I still don’t see why you’re helping me… Weren’t you a serial killer because ‘the world is shit’? There may have not been any evidence, but studying your testimony gives a lot of insight about how you view humanity and this world. I’m surprised.”

Adachi grit his teeth. He wasn’t too sure he liked Akechi when he was gassed up, but he was sure as hell grateful that a near adult wasn’t moistening his belongings with streams of tears. The last thing he wanted was to clean up puke if Akechi begun crying with the force of vomiting on all fours again. He stood up in front of the now spiritly Thief and reached out for his hand, his grey eyes bore sternly into Akechi’s red, “Maybe it’s because the quicker I lend you all my help and advice, the quicker you are to leave my apartment and give me some peace?”

“…According to the records upon your release, you were a model prisoner,” Akechi brazenly continued even after vainly letting Adachi help him to his feet, “Does this mean that you’ve perhaps softened? That you’re actually grateful for being graced in someone else’s presence in an amiable manner like this?”

How cheeky. Adachi didn’t notice before due to the young man being too debilitated to even stand up straight, but with Akechi’s upright posture, Adachi could tell the boy had about an inch on him. He found it awfully ironic, as Akechi now had the nerve to talk bigger than him as well.

“But really…” Akechi’s snarky grin softened to a gentile, welcoming smile, “Thank you, Adachi-san. I never would have expected to discover this kind of solace from a criminal.”

Adachi flinched, as even his compliments seemed condescending. However, Adachi let the kid slide and gave a single chuckle, “Ha, don’t you think each time I help a poor kid like you ‘criminal’ becomes a more irrelevant way to refer me as? You want me to throw you in the TV that badly?” he jokingly slapped Akechi on the back, luckily away from any cuts, “Get the hell in the shower and rest after. I _seriously_ want you out by morning. If you’re around for too long, I’ll have all those annoying little bitches on the street crowded around my room begging to see you.”

“Yeah, don’t fret about the spotlight at all. You’ll probably have this whole complex to yourself if anyone sees me take my leave,” Akechi laughed haughtily, swinging off his tan peacoat and throwing it over his shoulder.

Adachi was taken aback by this newfound arrogance in the boy, but he supposed the ace detective was excited from realizing he still had a second chance, unlike himself. He admittedly enjoyed having Akechi’s charisma brighten up the plain atmosphere of his dour apartment room, and found himself grateful that he potentially changed the broken boy’s whole life for the better.

“Oh, and Akechi?” Adachi rose his voice and called out to the boy as he was turning the knob to the bathroom.

“Please, Goro is just fine,” Akechi corrected, shooting Adachi yet another cheeky wink accompanied by a salute. It was surprising, almost disgusting, how the boy could be so lively and confident while covered in blood and torn clothes.

But Adachi didn’t seem to mind this time, steel eyes filled with a warmth hardly shown to anyone. He was still as pessimistic and rough around the edges as he had always been, but over the years, his sense of empathy had certainly matured. The older man nodded at Akechi, “Yeah, Tohru, got it?”

Both wild card users suddenly felt a strange energy surge through their veins. As strange and rare as it was for the two detectives, they realized that a true bond formed between them. The Jester had acted on his own sense of justice. Likewise, the boy of Justice had realized and learned from his own mistakes which echoed the jester’s in the past. Neither one undoubtably would like to admit their gratitude to the other, but Adachi and Akechi were subconsciously aware that the start of a friendship was born between the two.

Though maybe they could admit to just being acquaintances for now.


End file.
